


Keep the McConnell Flame Burning

by Lav



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lav/pseuds/Lav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>basketball and angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the McConnell Flame Burning

Basketball practice is torture- endless layups and suicide laps, a baptism of fire and adrenaline that burns up every feeling but aching muscles. Jason hangs around the gym after the rest of the team is gone. He stands at the free throw line until his arms feel robotic and the ball swishes through the net without touching the rim over and over in a mindless rhythm. 

His coach’s voice cuts into his concentration. “Your dad coming to the game this weekend, Jason?” 

“Doubt it,” Jason says. He tosses up another free throw. It thuds off the backboard. “He’s a busy man.” He smiles a mechanical McConnell smile. 

Coach Carter turns off the overhead lights. “Get some rest, alright?” 

After he leaves, Jason turns the lights back on and practices free throws for another hour. 

His room is empty when he finally gets back from the gym. He’s sort of relieved. And then he feels guilty for feeling relieved. He stares at Peter’s bed- tangled sheets, pillows shoved onto the floor. Jason’s bed is made- neat, responsible. He hasn’t slept there in weeks. He picks up Peter’s pillow to toss them on the bed and his stomach starts to do that thing where he feels like he’s going to throw up but he can’t. He gets in the shower and turns the knob all the way on the cold side and stays in the shower until his entire body is numb. A baptism of ice cold shower water. 

He gets dressed, thinks about calling his dad to invite him to the game for about two seconds, and starts doing his homework. The relief of being alone is gone. Jason writes an entire essay, trying not to think about anything but the words on the screen. But Jason hasn’t perfected the art of being a mechanical McConnell despite his best efforts. He sort of feels like he’s about to explode. 

So when Peter walks through the door, any purification the fire or the water may have brought dissipates. 

“God, Peter,” Jason says. He stands up, walks over to him. “Where have you been?” 

“I’ve just been really confused lately, so I was talking to-“

Jason grabs Peter’s shoulders and kisses him before he can finish his sentence. 

Peter pulls away, smiling a little. “Is talking not a thing we do anymore?”

Jason shakes his head, brushes his thumb across Peter’s lips. “I need you to kiss me.” 

“Okay,” Peter says, quietly. “I can do that.” 

Peter ends up pinned against the wall while Jason unbuttons his jeans. And for a while, Jason lets himself feel something. 

Peter is always asleep before Jason can even think about going to bed. Jason can’t stand lying in bed when he can’t get his thoughts to settle. He gets up and shuffles the books on his desk around, trying to find an excuse to stay up. The letter from his dad congratulating him on his acceptance to Notre Dame is sitting under his textbooks. He pulls it out, unfolds it. Scans it for the line he can’t get out of his head. “We always knew that you’d keep the McConnell flame burning.” Jason isn’t sure the McConnell’s have enough warmth in them to create anything resembling a flame. Jason knows what it really means to be a McConnell: be charming, be perfect, be cold. He doesn’t want to be like his father. He has to be like his father. 

He gets into Peter’s bed and puts an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

Peter changes position, sleepy, and takes Jason’s hand in a loose grip. “I love you.” 

Jason doesn’t reply.


End file.
